


Mirror

by Kuraagins



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, let's just assume Sansa is 20, petyr is a narcissist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraagins/pseuds/Kuraagins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP in which Petyr loves himself and will pretty much only fuck infront of the bathroom mirror <br/>'Nuff said </p><p>Written for PxS week day 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to lie this was heavily inspired by that scene from The Wire. You know the one.   
> Enjoy sweetlings!

There was a mirror in his bathroom. He liked the mirror, he did. It let him look at himself in all his glory, and he did like looking at himself. 

Because of the mirror, the bathroom was the only place that Petyr would fuck Lysa. He would sit her on the counter amongst all of his neatly arranged toiletries, and he'd stare at himself in the mirror whilst he fucked the ghastly woman. 

Yes, he was a narcissist, but who wouldn't rather look at themselves during sex when it was Lysa Arryn underneath them. With the distraction of himself Petyr was able to tune the woman out, at least a little bit. She sounded so whiney, so fake, Petyr hated it. When he looked at himself in his reflection, he was almost entranced at how good he looked. 

Everything about Petyr was perfect, and he made sure of it when he stood in front of that mirror every morning to prepare himself for the day. His hair would be brushed to the side, not a strand out of place. Facial hair trimmed to look professional and not scruffy. He made sure that his suit was crease-less and his tie straight. Petyr wasn't even embarrassed (although he would never admit it to anyone) that he moisturised his face twice daily to make sure his skin looked effortlessly smooth. 

With Lysa, he hardly made any sound, save for a few grunts, and even then it wasn't from the pleasure that Lysa was giving him. It was partly from his hatred for the woman that boiled deep inside him, and partly from the pleasure he was allowing himself as he gazed at his reflection. Overpowering her, controlling her. He was the one ruling right now and no one could take that away from him. It was that thought that made him cum. Whenever Lysa was underneath him, he could never get off if he focused on her. But the moment he thought about himself, the power that he held, the potential that he had, he could get off within seconds. 

Things were different with Sansa Stark though. 

Admittedly he did enjoy fucking her in the bedroom (the only woman to ever have that privilege) but the bathroom was still his go-to place for sex. However when he took her, she always stood in front of the counter, with him behind her. This way they could both be seen in the mirror, something that turned Petyr on even more than when it was just himself. 

With Sansa he was always fully naked. She liked him that way, and all he wanted to do in life was please her. There was only one part of himself that Petyr despised, and that was his nasty scar. When fucking Lysa, he always kept his shirt on, not wanting to see any imperfection in his reflection. But Sansa loved that scar, worshipped it with kisses whenever she saw it. And so at her command, he let her see it every time they fucked. 

He was louder with her too. Moaning in her ear and even speaking filthy words to her. Sansa, in turn, was a lovely contrast to Lysa. With her soft, quiet whimpers, bright hair, youthful face, gorgeous body... Petyr enjoyed playing with her small, soft breasts that sat high on her chest. Unlike Lysa's that sagged in her middle-aged state and repulsed Petyr. One time Petyr had even masturbated to just the thought of them. It was a rare occurrence for him to cum using just his imagination, such was the power and beauty of Sansa's breasts. 

Petyr's favourite part of sex with Sansa by far was the beginning. The way that her face scrunched up as she let out soft little whimpers as he rubbed his cock against her pussy was almost enough to bring him to an orgasm. Which, if Petyr was any other man who didn't have as much self control as he had, he might have done. 

The feeling of her tight cunt clenching around his cock as he slowly pushed into her was as good as an orgasm. And Petyr knew, there were not many more things that felt as good as an orgasm. Sansa was no innocent virgin as young as she was, but no matter how many times he fucked her, she always gasped and tightened like a sweet little maiden when he entered her. It was perfect though, and Petyr wouldn't have it any other way. 

"Good girl Sansa... You're my good girl," he cooed, running his hands down her torso before gripping her hips. She gave him a little moan in return, one hand steadying herself on the counter and the other reaching behind to rest atop of his. 

She was about the same height as him. Something that didn't bother Petyr in the slightest, but he did like to tease her, saying that she'd have to stop growing or else he'd need to stand on a bucket to fuck her. Which despite being a joke, was true. If she grew to be taller than him, it'd prove to be quite a challenge to fuck her like this, and Petyr wasn't about to let anything get in the way of fucking Sansa in this position. 

Once he had slowly drawn back, he pushed right back into her with a force that caused her to jolt forward a little. Petyr smirked at the surprised gasp that left the girl who steadied herself by throwing her other hand onto the counter, and dipped his head to kiss the skin at her shoulder.

At first he at least tried to be gentle, but before long he was thrusting in and out of the young girl with reckless abandon. His fingers dug so hard into her delicate skin that he was sure that there would be bruises come morning. Her little whimpers were priceless, spurring on his hips to move faster against her own so he could hear her grow louder. 

"God yes Sansa, you love this don't you?" He asked, moving his hand around to give her cunt a quick slap. 

The girl couldn't find her words between gasps, so only nodded her head furiously. 

"Look at yourself baby, you're perfect, you're fucking perfect," Petyr hissed, thrusting upwards a little bit to hit deeper inside of her, "we're perfect," 

Petyr couldn't have torn his eyes away from her even if he wanted to. Her face was a pretty pink colour from the heat surrounding both of their bodies, red hair swaying rather gently over one shoulder considering their act, and the thrusting of their bodies caused her tits to bounce unbelievably erotically. Upon gazing at such a wondrous sight, Petyr didn't hesitate to move his hand upwards to palm at one of her perfect little breasts. Judging from her moan and the way she thrust her chest towards his touch, Sansa seemed to be enjoying the attention. 

The sound of their skin slapping together grew louder and louder with each thrust. Becoming more obscene as Sansa became wetter and stickier. She was dripping further down his balls the more he thrust, and the temptation was too great for him not to rub his free hand against her and then bring it to his mouth. He loved tasting her, she was more enjoyable in his mouth than a fine wine, and for Petyr that was saying something. 

Petyr began to pick up speed as his orgasm neared. Sansa was crying out by this point, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable for the two of them. Petyr removed his hand from her breast and brought it up to her hair, yanking her head backwards to get a better angle for sucking and biting at her neck. Between bites he would moan against her neck, unable to keep quiet whilst fucking her perfect little pussy. The vibrations were clearly much to Sansa's liking, earning his name to be whimpered from her soft lips, plump from her biting down in ecstasy, her hand moving backwards again to grasp at his hand on her hip. 

"Who do you belong to sweetling? Tell me who," he demanded, his lips still pressed against her neck.

"You!" She yelled, "you, you, Petyr, only you," 

"That's right baby girl, you're mine," he muttered, biting down, "I'm the only one who can see you like this, fuck you like this. My perfect, perfect little girl."

"I'm yours, I'm your girl," Sansa whimpered, keeping her head tilted back even as his hand moved back to her hip. 

Petyr wanted nothing more than to bend her over the counter and bury his cock unbelievably deep inside her. But he had to see her like this, see them like this as they came. He rested his head on her shoulder as his hand flew to rub hard little circles against her clit, bringing her closer to her own orgasm. Petyr could hear his grunts becoming ragged as he listened to Sansa's own cries, strangled and hoarse from her relentless moaning all evening. 

"Petyr, Petyr, oh god Petyr please, I'm gonna cum," Sansa cried out, her words almost unintelligible as she rambled on in her lust-driven state. 

Petyr snapped his head up at this, rubbing her clit even harder, determined to make her cum and to hold himself off until she did.

"Cum for me Sansa, my sweet, sweet girl," he growled, staring at her reflection in the mirror with dark eyes. 

"I need you Petyr, God please, I'm-" she broke off with a cry as her cunt tightened like a vice around his cock and she reached her orgasm. 

And with that Petyr let go and came himself. Letting out a low moan as he stilled, feeling his seed spurt out into her wet, tight pussy. 

"Petyr, Petyr, Petyr," she whispered his name as a mantra as she came down from her orgasm. 

He went limp against the girl's back, resting his chin on her shoulder. His thumping heart began to slow as he traced swirls against Sansa's hip. He gazed at them both in the mirror, Sansa was still, her breathing deep and her head still tilted back. She leaned back against him, as close as she could get, and her blue eyes remained shut. This was what perfection looked like, in Petyr Baelish's mind. The way their bodies moved against each other, the contrast of their hair, the elegance of their posture. Nothing could compare to the way they looked together and Petyr considered himself lucky that he had found her, this girl who was even more astounding than him. He would gladly throw all of his fancy suits and expensive luxuries away if it meant he could stay with her forever.


End file.
